


The Circle

by riiverton



Category: Original Work
Genre: Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Fantasy, Gay Rights, LESBIAN RIGHTS, M/M, Magic, Non-binary narrator, Original Fiction, Original Universe, Other, Queer Character, Queer Themes, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riiverton/pseuds/riiverton
Summary: Connall, a shapeshifter in the kingdom of Kir, is approached by unlikely customers searching for their services.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	The Circle

You could say I’m in the business of making people disappear. You could say I’m in the business of making people reappear, too. You could say I’m in the business of treachery, hurting feelings, disguises, witchcraft, playing god, it really just depends on who you ask and how satisfied my customer is with their results.  
  
I’m a Shifter. My dealings are in magic. When you call yourself a master of magical disguises, you get a pretty niche customer base.  
  
Don’t get me wrong, Shifting others is good work. It pays quite a bit, especially if people are desperate. I get noblemen who want girls they’ve slept with to disappear, or babies to look more like their wife’s husbands, rather than the rascal they slept with. I get girls wanting to look prettier to catch the eye of a suitor, women wanting to regain their old beauty, men wanting to look stronger, spies wanting to appear Gallahnese or Takish so that their recon mission goes a bit more smoothly. Spies are the fun ones, because they don’t want to look beautiful. They just want to look real. I appreciate that.  
  
Each time someone wants a Shift, I lay out the terms. I tell them my magic won’t last forever, and even Shifter magic has its limits. Smaller things last longer. Sometimes, they can last for years, if you’re careful enough. If they’re really big Shifts, like changing someone’s entire body shape, then you’d be lucky if you even got a week. I’m a terrible hair stylist, but if you give me a length and a color I’ll see what I can do. Trying to look exactly like someone is doable if I have a portrait for reference. The bigger the Shift you want, the longer it’ll take, so bring a book and get comfortable in the chair. No, it doesn’t hurt, yes, I can do touch-ups at a later date, yes, I do get tired after doing this for eight hours straight, I may be a Shifter, but I’m still human too.  
  
Sometimes I get asked why I’ve not made myself into the most drop-dead gorgeous person in Kirian City, why my hair is still thick and frizzy and mousy, why my face is too round or my skin “blemished,” though I like my freckles. I don’t care about the art I create on my face, in all honesty. I care about the art I make on others’.  
  
Every once in a while, I get a particularly interesting request. Like I said, the spies are the fun ones. Today is already starting to like an interesting request day.  
  
Into my little workshop files five figures, each cloaked and hooded so that their faces were entirely disguised. It’s odd to see them there - they look so out of place, their cloaks in rich blues and dark greens. One of them even has the hem of their cloak embroidered in silver thread, meanwhile I’m here in my work apron and boots, straddling my workbench, watching them all cram themselves into the entryway of my workshop.  
  
“Are we alone?” asks the tallest one, reaching up to remove their hood.  
  
“Yeah, it’s just me here,” I say, gesturing to the rest of the workshop. It’s empty, save for my bench, a chair that spins, and two large windows. Both of them have their thick curtains drawn. The walls are lined with sketches of face shapes and contours, wefts of hair in color and curl order, fake noses, and even a large palette of skin tones.  
  
And the five hoods fall back. I recognize four of the five faces: King Aspen, red-haired and green-eyed, that damned flirtatious smirk always playing across his face like the world is a game. I fear this man. He knows how to use his charm and good looks to his favor. The tall one is General Avazak, steely eyed and firm, with a deep, rumbling voice. I thought I recognized it. The other two that I know are Finnea, a powerful Elemental - people are more scared of her than the General - and her wife, Spymaster Whitley, whose agents are the reason we’ve gotten anywhere with a boy king.  
  
The fifth person, however, I don’t recognize. He does his best to stand tall, but he’s the type that could take two steps backwards and we’d all forget he was there. He has hair like yellow straw and brown eyes and an entirely unremarkable face. I’d love to study a face like his, so easily forgettable. Whitley would appreciate my work, creating spies that look like this boy.  
  
“Connall, I’d like to make some introductions,” Whitley begins.  
  
“And a request, I presume, involving these two,” I point at the king and the boy beside him.  
  
“We’ll get there. As you know, this is Azavak, Finnea, and Aspen. The plain one is Westley,” she says, gesturing to each person as she names them.  
  
“Yes, yes, there’s been a threat on the king’s life and you want me to turn Aspen into Westley so he can sneak around unnoticed at the time of the assassination attempt you got word of, I get it, sit down so I can get started.” I motion for King Aspen to sit, but he doesn’t budge.  
  
“Not quite, Conn, but you’re close,” he says, reaching out and taking Westley’s hand. I watch him squeeze - Westley squeezes back. “We need you to Shift Wes into me, for two weeks. He’ll be… posing as me, for the time being.”  
  
“The king wants me to commit treason for the king by turning someone else into the king?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to be unconvinced, but my interest is actually quite piqued. Why do they want a puppet on the throne for two weeks? What good would that do? What kind of secret escapade is the king getting into this time? “Be glad you two are about the same height and build, or you would get a week tops out of this Shift. Wes, take a seat.”  
  
“That’s why we picked him, Connall,” Finnea rolls her eyes, taking a seat on my bench and flicking one of her braids absently. I roll my eyes back at her.  
  
The boy does as he’s told. Whitley launches into a tirade as I prepare myself for a bigger Shift.  
  
“This is a performance, Westley, as much as it’s just bearing Aspen’s pretty face. You’re gonna look the part and sound the part, but- loosen up, you’re too tense. Relax your shoulders.”  
  
“Excuse me, Whit, you can yell at the kid from over there.” I shoo the Spymaster aside, crouching in front of Westley. “This won’t hurt, but it will be uncomfortable. The most painful part will be your nose and jaw shifting around. While your jaw’s moving, breathe through your nose. While your nose is changing, breathe through your mouth. You’ll be able to feel it when you’re good to go.” I pat his knee comfortingly. His leg is… cold.  
  
I reach down, pull up the boy’s pants, and groan.  
  
“He’s missing a goddamn leg!”  
  
“It’s fourteen inches of my leg, beginning five inches below the knee,” Wes retorts. His voice has power behind it, if he gives it that. This boy could be as commanding as the king if he tried.  
  
“Ah, he speaks! Miracle of miracles! How the fuck do you expect to hide his missing leg when he’s playing the part of the king? Aspen’s in one piece, last time I checked.” I glare at the group of supposedly experienced experts.  
  
“I am,” Aspen confirms with a smirk.  
  
Whitley doesn’t answer. I roll my eyes.  
  
“Fine, I’ll figure it out on my own, since apparently you lot are useless.” I decide that Wes is better company than the king’s court. “Tell me, kid, what do you do in the castle?”  
  
“Uh, I’m lieutenant in the king’s guard, set to be Captain eventually-”  
  
“How’d you get so far on a bum leg?”  
  
“Well, I, uh-”  
  
“Speak with confidence, I don’t bite. Tip your head back, I need a better angle. Bum leg?”  
  
“I still have my knee, so I got special training and physical therapy after I was discharged from the Army. Aspen took an interest in me, got me a position in the guard, mostly because I was twice as good as some of the better two-legged guards. Now I’m moving up the ranks.”  
  
“Congrats, kid.” Beneath my fingertips, Wes’s eyes turn from brown to green. Aspen watches with wide eyes and I glance over at him. “Your Highness, with all due respect, is it morally ethical to sleep with the guy who’s gonna be your twin for the next two weeks?”  
  
I fully expect the king to splutter and turn pink - Wes does - but instead, he matches my grin.  
  
“Well, as much as I’d love to enjoy my own pretty face looking up at me from the bed sheets every night for the next two weeks, I will be enjoying the comfort of crappy taverns and inns and feeling ever-so-lonely without him.”  
  
“Touche, sir. Where are you headed?”  
  
Whitley cuts in, casting Aspen a scowl. “Nowhere that’s relevant to you at this point in time, Conn. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“Damn, I was so hoping to be privy on the king’s personal matters.”  
  
“If you prove yourself useful today, you may be,” Azavak says. His voice surprises me again - I’d heard it before, a deep rumble, like thunder, but it’s quite intimidating when it’s directed at you.  
  
“What are you trying to tell me? Is this some kind of test?”  
  
“God, they’re slow, Whit. Why’d you choose Connall, again?” Finnea is fiddling with one of her many braids. Her hair is so thick and dark and pretty. I want to cut one of those little braids and add it to my stash of hair samples.  
  
“Connall is one of the greatest Shifters in all of Kir, Fin, maybe even the Three Kingdoms. Their skill is unparalleled, and they are a great asset,” Whitley stares at me as she speaks, her eyes boring into my goddamn soul. I can’t believe people are more scared of Finnea than Whitley, but then again, I’ve never seen Finnea fight.  
  
“So why haven’t you hired me yet, m’lady?”  
  
“Because you’re a cocky asshooooole!” sings Finnea from her seat.  
  
“That, and you’re a bit of a wildcard,” the Spymaster agrees. “But I could use talents like yours, as could the General.”  
  
“And the king,” Aspen adds, resting his hands on his hips as Westley’s hair turns from gold to red beneath my touch, curling up and growing longer as they speak.  
  
“So you’re saying… You’ll really need me, for missions besides this one?”  
  
“Yes, and we need you to prove your loyalty, to an extent.”  
  
“Your Highness, with all due respect, I’m no rat. Why else would I have set up shop in the goddamn capital of Kir?”  
  
“You work in disguises, Connall. You could be a spy in disguise for all we know. We simply need to be sure.”  
  
“So, what of your mission, then?” I tilt my head, pausing my work on Westley’s face - though his lips are fuller, his cheekbones higher, and his eyebrows are darker now.  
  
“Myself and Finnea are investigating some rumors along the border we share with Gallahn. It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
We settle back into a rhythm as I work. Whitley continues to prattle on to Wes about all his duties, his daily routines, how thankful she is that he knows Takish and Gallahnese or they’d be royally fucked (no pun intended), Aspen’s favorite stable boys, and I wish she’d shut up, but I recognize the necessity of what she’s doing. Wes makes one false step, and the people’s faith in the Kirian monarchy is finished and we’re all also royally fucked - pun fully intended. She pauses in her tirade to look at me.  
  
“By the way, Connall, you’ll need to be in the palace, too. You’ll have to maintain the illusion, so… You’ll have to Shift yourself into a- well, do you have a preference between maid and butler?”  
  
“Madame, my preference is neither, but if I must, I’d rather trousers to a skirt any day. Woof, I can’t imagine traipsing around a castle in skirts and corsets and the like.” Wes’s Shift is almost complete, too. It’s been a couple of hours, and my fingertips are starting to ache, but my head is still clear. Wes is listening to everything intently, but his resting face is still too Wes, it’s nothing like Aspen’s playful, constant smile and precise focus on whoever is speaking.  
  
“You’ll need to Shift and join the palace staff for these two weeks. Posing as a personal guard will suffice… Hm.”  
  
“Are you proposing I become Westley for two weeks?”  
  
“Well, I’m not mad at the idea,” Whitley begins, but Finnea cuts her off.  
  
“Your face could use the upgrade, anyway.”  
  
“Hey!” Aspen, Westley, and I all turn to glare at her. Wes is actually a little bit pink - how cute. I can see the appeal that Aspen does.  
  
“Jeez, okay, I’m just saying,” she puts her hands up defensively, and goes back to staring at the wall.  
  
“Azavak and I will remain in the castle to help you through basic daily activities, but for the majority of the day, you will remain with Westley. Get started on your own Shift as soon as possible, Connall, we want you to come back to the castle with us.” Whitley absently plays with Finnea’s hair, trying to comfort her moping lover.  
  
“Morning meetings are usually trade-related, policy-making, and foreign affairs. The afternoon is all domestic issues…” Azavak keeps talking, but I tune him out, focused on finishing Wes’s Shift. It’s only another half hour before there are two King Aspens standing before us, one hunched a bit and shy, hands clasped in front of him, the other fussing over the slumped one’s hair.  
  
“You’ve done a fantastic job, can I just say,” Aspen - the real one - glances over his shoulder to grin at me.  
  
“I know I have, sir, but the appearance is only half of it.” I keep my eyes fixed on Westley as my own features shift, my face narrowing, my eyes blinking from nearly black to his golden brown color, my nose adding the bump of an old break, my lashes becoming paler. “I can tell which one’s you without even thinking. Straighten up, Wes. Give us your best impression of the king.”  
  
The poor soldier blinks, correcting his posture. It’s already better. He shrugs his shoulders back, tips his chin up, and rests his hands on his hips - nearly perfect. He looks down at all of us over his nose.  
  
“If none of you mind, it’s my royal duty to decree it suppertime. We’ve been here long enough, and spoiled Connall with our presence. Thank them for their kindness when dealing with us, children, and let’s be off.”  
  
“I hate it when he calls us children,” Whitley mumbles, but Finnea and Aspen applaud. Even Azavak smirks.  
  
“Bravo, bravo!” I laugh. Whitley’s scowl is ever-so-entertaining. “We’ll make a princeling of you yet. I’m sure Azavak will help with that. Meanwhile,” I school my features into that of Wes’s anxious resting expression, “I’ll be your dutiful servant, Your Highness!”  
  
“I’m starting to think we can actually make this work,” Aspen says, looking proud.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this piece for my fiction class! It may be edited later as I get feedback on it, but for now, I hope you guys enjoyed! There's about 3k more words of this bad boy if you guys want it~


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